


The Emperor's Wife

by Skinnley



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Cults, Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Forced Pregnancy, Implied/Referenced Torture, Internal Conflict, Loss of Virginity, Original Character(s), Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Negan (Walking Dead), Protectiveness, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Strong Female Characters, Torture, lots of god damn cuddling because cuddling is the greatest human interaction to ever exist, negan is just a sweet innocent baby with a baseball bat ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2018-12-31 04:06:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12124161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skinnley/pseuds/Skinnley
Summary: Behind each strong man  is a woman just as strong, and often enough, even stronger. Ava Kensington is willing to do whatever it takes to to keep her and the only remnant of her dead sister alive. Safety for her three month old nephew is her biggest concern, and when a baseball wielding man with a big enough ego to fill three football fields comes into the picture she doesn't let his brash actions and violent nature drive her away. However, even with her submissive behavior, she knows how to wield Negan just as well as he does his precious Lucille, and it doesn't take long before she has him entirely wrapped around her fingers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write a romance based fic with Negan as the interest for ages. So I finally stayed up way too late and started to. One thing I would like to address is that I have always found the survival aspect of apocalyptic themed things extremely interesting, so that is something I tend to go into great detail with, (although honestly I go into too much detail with most things.), so if that doesn't interest you feel free to skim until you see our favorite baseball wielding hottie's name come up.

Bile was the closest thing Ava could come up with to name the odor that constantly clung to the air, a scent so sharp it made her stomach curl inward on itself. Sometimes when she was away from the warehouse long enough, she almost got used to that constant smell, but almost was just that; almost. The Georgia weather was clinging to its usual roots that morning, her back already prickling with sweat, an uncomfortable moisture trickling beneath the back of her sports bra and down her back. She hated the heat, hated every aspect of it, from its arid waves and its ability to suck the moisture out of everything.

  
Running her fingertips through her hair, quickly coating them in sweat, she without a seconds hesitation wiped the salty liquid onto her tank top and continued her quiet decent through what was once a suburban neighborhood. White picket fences were faded and stain laden without their yearly fresh coats of paint. Windows were naked from the glowing light someone would have expected a home to be full of, dawning instead torn curtains and thin layers of grime. Their was a two story house to the left of her, forest green with a wooden plaque nailed into the tree, large letters that spelled out, “Burris”. The large evergreen towered over the houses slanted roof, two years worth of untrimmed branches nearly brushing one of the second story windows. Each and every aspect of the house was a blazing and raging reminder of the old world, of the what was and could have been had shit not hit the fan in the highest quantity possible.

  
The most uncomfortable thing about the little neighborhood wasn't necessarily how empty and deserted it looked, but that it lacked the ransacked appearance of the houses that were nestled within large cities and towns. Madison wasn't even considered a town, most called it a “village”, its population barely climbing into a thousand. When things went wrong most migrated further into the larger cities, however, reeled in with promises of protection and safety from the government, recruited by National Guard men in their full gear. Those were the first places to crumble, however, the little safe havens dressed in Red Cross signs and vans long since trampled under the feet of the dead.

  
For a moment her hand rested on the gate, the only thing blocking the carefully placed stones that created a walk way to the front steps of her chosen house of the day. First she ran her forefinger over its smooth top, metallic instead of the wood that the other houses seemed keen on being partnered with. Rust decorated ir, orange and staining her pale skin when she finally lifted the single digit and pushed the creaking blockage open. The sound made her cringe, giving a last glance over the surrounding area before feeling trusting enough of the space around her to continue on further. With each step her hand rested on the knife nestled within its sheath, safely packaged in the depth of her pocket. She knew guns were safer, smarter, better, stronger, and it wasn't as if she lacked the ability to shoot on, even before the world decided to rapture on itself she was one hell of a shot. Things still clawed at her mind whenever she picked one up, though, whenever the smooth metal brushed against her skin and the booming noise of its relief collided with her ear drums.

  
Sliding the knife from its place and holding it firmly, she used her left hand to wrap on the white door, a window sanctioned in the middle, a lacy white curtain on the other side.

_One._

The sound was loud, loud enough to alert anyone that was living inside.

_Two._

Ava put more force behind her fist, waiting for a ruffle of the white curtain. Her eyes found their way to an orange pot in the corner of the porch, homing dead flowers, the clay container covered in small hand prints given life by red paint.

_Three._

She looked away from the planting pot, from the memory that at some point in the past was something special to a family, that once had little palms pressed against its surface. Silence was prevalent, and she pushed her weight against the door and turned the handle. It didn't budge, something that wasn't surprising. People thought they would come back, with their families in tow, answers from their government and little red dots on their wrists from vaccines. People expected safety, in a world that they thought was forgiving, but at the end of the day was not.

  
Breaking into homes wasn't a talent she had when society was booming, but now it came nearly as easily as breathing. Taking a few steps back but gripping the handle still, she then slammed forward, absorbing the weight into her arm and shoulder. It hurt like a bitch for a few second, but the slight cracking noise was the only reassurance she needed. When she tried to turn the knob once more, it gave, and opened slightly when she pushed forward once more. With one more push of blunt force, courtesy of her body, the doorway was opened completely and accompanied by a burst of ashy dust that nearly made her choke.  
The front door opened up into the living room, expensive white couches with blue pillows sitting at their edges. It almost looked too perfect, like the fake decorative rooms in an IKEA, each and every piece of furniture, fabric, and decor corresponding with the other in one way or another. Living rooms weren't a current interest though, and after closing the partially broken door behind her, Ava was on the look out for one thing; the kitchen. An archway to the left gave way to what she was in search of, the white tile floor the only hint needed for one to know what lied within.

  
She didn't bother with the expensive looking fridge, knowing that whatever lied within was long gone and no doubt only harboring a scent nearly as bad as the corpses roaming the streets. The first cupboards to be searched were the lower ones, the oak wood ashy with a layer of dust. After being met with nothing but plastic containers and noodle strainers, Ava nearly drowned in relief when the second cupboard held brightly colored cans and paper boxes. The entirety of the little storage area was emptied, cans and boxes placed carefully in the large green backpack. It was a lucky find in an abandoned athletic store, a hiking backpack that was waterproof and could hold far more than anything she might find left behind. Standing on the tips of her toes to reach the cabinets further up, her heart contracted tightly at the large metallic containers that were stacked evenly atop each other; formula. A rarity, the only supplement that kept her littlest treasure going. It would be less than a week before she'd have to try and locate another daycare again, and it was unknown when she'd find another house with the powdered milk.

  
Seven containers in all, each full, still sealed, each one kept in the safety of her backpack. The question of why the family didn't take their baby's food with them crossed her mind, but she knew not to question the gifts of this new world, this new life. One persons misfortune could be what kept you alive, and you couldn't let the guilt of that weigh you down, or you'd drown too. The rest of the cupboards held minimal things, packets of expired oatmeal, tiny jars of baby food and cups of instant noodles. One held medication, an obvious gold, baby Tylenol and pink allergy pills, a bottle of Pamprin that was nearly full, that alone was enough to make both Ava and her uterus say a silent prayer of thanks.

  
She had just slung the bag over her shoulders once more when she heard it, the sound of a vehicle, a mechanical noise that two years ago she wouldn't have noticed, a noise that was terrifying. For a moment she froze, the sound of her heartbeat drowning out anything else, creating a solid wall between her senses and whatever was out there. She needed a hiding spot, somewhere out of site, out of mind, somewhere someone wouldn't think to look. A closet was to her left, but that was an obvious, something they'd no doubt check first should they decide to come in.

  
The humming came closer, the vehicle growing nearer and nearer, her panic rising too quickly for her to catch up with. “Shit," her whisper was one only the walls could hear, her own mind not even picking up on the fact that she actually spoke out loud. Then, nearly as quickly as the engines song came to life, it was gone, and for a second she thought she was safe, that whomever was inside had left the little row of forgotten homes. Then a door slammed, the sound hard and solid, and right outside her little miracle homes front door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the love :) the first few chapters were just to set the stage for the rest of the story, after this they'll be much longer.

Negan glanced over the houses, all seemingly untouched, a neighborhood that screamed, “The husband's fucking his secretary”. Coming to a stop halfway down the street, the truck behind him following suit, he removed the keys and tucked them into his jacket pocket before practically leaping from the vehicle. It only took several minutes for the rest to join, five other men in total, obediently lining up and waiting for the direction of their leader.

“Alright, my favorite group of mother fuckers!” A grin parted his lips, pearly white teeth hidden beneath, cocky ego nearly bursting at the seems. “We've got shit to do, fuckers to kill, supplies to raid. It's an eight hour drive back to The Sanctuary, and that's only if we don't have to deal with any more than likely going to happen bullshit.”

Lucille was resting on his shoulder, her freshly washed barbwire highlighted in the raging sun, a beacon of anything but hope. Each man watched it carefully, knowing well that Negan had smashed in a countless number of heads, living and dead, with his prized possession. Slowly, he slid her from his shoulder, twirling her lazily in the air and counting over each house, “Eenie...meenie....miney....”, a pause of consideration, silence hanging in the air before his booming voice broke it, “Mo!” Lucille's wooden head pointed directly at the forest green house, the door not quite resting in place correctly. “Dwight, take Eddie boy and Ferris and check out next door. You other two fuckers are blessed with the big man himself this fine afternoon.” He bowed, offering them a final smirk before turning around and leading the way to number two seventeen.

“Looks here like we get the opportunity to make a friend, boys.” He glanced over the crack exterior, “Someone cracked this mother fucker open like a fuckin' nut.” Carefully, he drew the door open further, slow enough that it didn't give even the slightest creek. “John, you and Mike search upstairs. I can handle myself alone.” There was no questioning of his abilities, both men clearing out, footsteps silent and muffled by the carpeted stairs, dust blooming in the air around each boot clad foot. Left seemingly alone in the lower level, Negan spoke once more, voice loud enough that it could be heard throughout the entire first floor,“If anyone wants to come out and play, its your turn to bat.”

 

 

^^^

The closet was closely confined, walls narrow to the point that Ava was sure that at any moment they would give in and smash her in the middle. Dark and claustrophobia inducing rooms brought up too many memories, ones she had tried with a desperation to push into the furthest corners of her mind and away from anything close to her conscious mind. She knew they were in the house, that out of each and every one they had managed to chose the same as her.

The voices were muffled, but gruff enough she knew they were male, in a group of at least two, if not more. Then they dispersed into silence, and for a second she hoped, heart soaring, that they had left just as quickly as they became. Then it came, the voice, a single sentence, so casually simple you could almost not here the lingering threat in the man's tone.

“If anyone wants to come out and play, its your turn to bat.” The voice had a dominant tone, deep, masculine to the highest degree and commanding. He wasn't asking her to come out, he was telling her. The pumping of her heart intensified, hands shaking at her sides, fingers dug into the hilt of her knife. She could come out and submit, offer them everything on her, and hope they'd let her go. The fear of safety rang strong in her mind, though, thoughts of deception long since embedded into every single thought she took when it came to considering trusting men. Men had used her before, men had killed her sister. Matthew needed her alive, needed her warmth and love, needed what his Mother had not survived long enough to give him.

She had no choice but to leave him in the warehouse, cradled in the warmth of his blankets, safe between the confines of his crib walls. There was always the fear that someone would find their safe place, make it through the gates and straight into the place they had established as their own. Or she could get killed, and he would be stuck waiting, only for her to never come back. There was a million different things that could go wrong, but in the end he was safer there, often enough still asleep with no knowledge of her absence. Footsteps echoed into the kitchen, loud and assertive, he was making his presence known. She backed further into the closet, the plastic tip of a broom poking hard into her ribs. She wasn't sure which choice was safer, her panic debilitating her ability to choose. The light that crept from beneath the closet door was suddenly shunned, broken apart by a dark shadow. A rattle came from the closet door, something hard making contact with its surface. Whoever was outside it was checking for walkers, knowing that anything dead would brings itself abruptly against the antagonizing bang.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

The door began to open.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will do a spell check tomorrow, overly eager to get it out right away. Thanks :)

“Well I'll be mother fucking damned!” Negan grinned, dimples crinkling into the thick, white streaked hair of his beard. “I hope you're not coming out of the closet sweetheart, because if that's the case, I'll be fuckin' heartbroken!” 

The thing about this new world is that it left almost every individual still clinging to life in it on the brink of starvation. It decorated their faces in gauntness, overly exaggerated cheek bones and easily distinguishable rib cages. The girl in the closet, however, had a body that women in the old world could only hope they could achieve. It was hard to miss the shape of her hips, wide and rounded, tightly bound in her athletic shorts, contrasting heavily to the narrowness of her waist. Her thighs were thick, muscled, the kind of thighs Negan would love to spend a night between. Then there was her chest, God fucking damn, even in the obvious sports bra, she was clearly plump in every single right area. Her body wasn't the only thing he noticed, however, and he quickly caught onto her fingers sliding around the knife in her pocket. 

“Woah there, baby doll, I fucking promise you, you don't want to do that.” He noted how her eyes left him, studying Lucille, all perfectly polished and nestled atop his muscled shoulder. The sunlight bled through the thin curtains, lighting up her eyes, a deep blue that nearly transitioned to purple. “I could either be your god damn Savior tonight, or the one to add you to the list of dumb fucks that I've enforced natural selection on.” A frown formed on her full lips, fingers slipping away from her pocket. 

“How do I know you won't smash my head in anyway?” Her voice was strong, a velvet like tone that almost challenged him. She didn't cower under him, regardless of the fact that he had a good eight inches, if not more, on her. 

“A gentlemen never breaks his promise.”

“If I put my weapon down, will you?” A quirk of a dark brow, a nibble on her lower lip. 

“I said I'm a gentlemen, not an idiot. Now, why don't you come on out? I think hide and seeks over.” 

Slowly, she did as asked, never once reaching for her weapon. “Hand me the knife, and put the backpack down.” He spoke coolly, the command in his tone impossible to miss. For a moment she hesitated, eyeing him with suspicion. “I'm not going to hurt you.” This time he spoke gently, an attempt to put an ease to her furrowed brow, he didn't expect her to trust him, but he couldn't chance her attempting to over power him.

Shrugging the backpacks straps from her shoulders, it was fight to keep his eyes steady and not wavering to the ample amount of cleavage she kept packed beneath her tank top. A burning in his loins was already extremely present, but if he let his cock do too much thinking, he'd be in trouble. He watched as she set it softly to the ground, then pulled her knife from her pocket, sheath and all, holding the bottom as she held it out to him.

“Off to a great start already, princess.” He offered her a grin, carefully placing her discarded weapon into his jean pocket. “Shitheads!” Barking for his other two, it was only a matter of seconds before they were stomping down the stairs, guns in tow and ready to blow some sorry fucks head off. “Hey now, put that shit down, we don't treat our guests like that. Especially not lovely little lady's!” 

“What's the name, baby doll?” He questioned, voice gruff, dripping in heavy flirtation. 

^^^^  
Ava, despite her ability to hold up well, was scared beyond shitless. If it wasn't for her fingernails, dug hard into the palms of her hands, she was sure the man with the bat would notice her trembling fingers. She was outnumbered, without a weapon, her supplies on the ground and more than likely not going to be leaving with her, if she left at all. Whoever these people were, they knew what they were doing, and the only way she could think of surviving this encounter was by following along to their game as best as possible. 

She heard him ask for her name through the fogs of her mind, a question that took a few minutes to register in her mind. “Ava...” Raising her eyes to meet him, it was almost starling, how intensely hazel their tone was. “Yours?” She cocked her head, almost flirtatious, almost receipting his own playful nature. No matter the cost, what she had to do, she had to get back to Matthew. 

“Negan, the one and only. Although you can call me whatever you'd like.” A final cocky grin, his ego nearly spilling as it filled to the brim. Then his attention was off her, moving to the two men who were silent at his side. “Search her bag. I'll search her.” 

The thought of having him search her made her tense, unknowing of just how far he would take his hands over her body. It didn't take him long to close the space between them, his height greater enough than her own that she had to look up at him. “Arms up, legs apart.” She did as told, body tightening further as his hands ran over her arms, chest, stomach, the sides of her hips and pants. He was done quick, never lingering, never groping, no indication that he'd try anything further with her. 

Meanwhile, the belongings of her bag were dumped onto the tile floor, containers of baby formula clinking as they made contact. “You've got a kid? In this shit strain of a world?” He seemed genuinely surprised, almost concerned. 

“He's my nephew..” She trailed off, looking away, “You can take whatever else, please...but I need that formula.” Ava wasn't a beggar, or she liked to think she wasn't anyway. “I only have a few cans left, he's eating more and more everyday. Please, Negan. How many babies do you have where your from?”

“Take me to him.” He said it once, not a question, a demand, his eyes never leaving hers. Ava's lips parted before she looked away, brow furrowed. “But...” She continued, chewing the inside of her cheek, “How can I trust you?”

“Do I look like a fucking baby murderer to you?”

She hesitated, not offering an answer. Negan sighed deeply, running his fingers through his beard, “Listen, Ava..." His voice trailed, her name sounding almost alluring in his deep voice, "I can offer you more than wherever you're staying can. Walls high enough to keep the living and the dead out, enough formula that you'll never have to leave him alone again. We've got electricity for Christ's sake, a fucking twenty four seven hours a day, seven days a week doctor on site. I could keep the both of you safe. All you have to do is let me." His tone was rich, steady, hazel eyes burning of such an intense warmth she wanted to trust him, almost did. Ava studied him for a moment, glancing away, considering her options. It could be a trap, something that would be the end of her existence all together. These men, however, had a vehicle, running and obviously on no shortage of gas. They were well fed, clean, their clothing not showing any sign of deterioration. If Negan was telling the truth she could keep Matthew safe for the rest of their lives, she'd never have to worry when she tucked him into bed and then left to scour what was left of the world for supplies. "Okay..." Her voice was gentle, quiet, head slowly dipping up to meet his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan prides himself on being cold, but what happens when he starts to feel warmth once more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay it's late as hell, I'm tired, and a spell check as per usual it seems with me will come tomorrow. Thanks for your patience <3

Ava sat in the front seat of the truck Negan drove, her wrists bound together and resting lightly in the cushion of her lap. The air conditioning was blowing on the highest setting, kissing her skin in such a delightful way she was sure if she didn't contain herself she would moan out in pleasure. It had been so long since she felt a chilly breeze like the one the vehicle was providing, it almost made her forget about her containment, the baseball bat resting between the two seats.  Fidgeting a bit, she glanced up at the road, the empty highway seeming to expanse on for an eternity, free of the thousands of cars that at one point in time would have crossed its smoothed pathway daily.

“Tell me when to turn.” Negan never took his eyes from the road, fingers planted firmly on the steering wheel. Even his fingers were large, his dominance so heavily embedded in each of his physical and mental traits. She had been stealing glances the entire way, taking in the shape of his face, the way he slicked his black hair back so perfectly, even in a society gone to shit. “You know, it isn't polite to stare, darling.” He seemed to almost sneer his words, but she caught the grin, the undertone of teasing. It was just them, his men riding in the jeep behind them.

“I wasn't staring....I was....observing.” Her cheeks flushed pink, the color rising atop her sun kissed flesh. “As if you weren't doing the same to me earlier.” Then her shyness was gone, replaced with her hitting him right back, just as much of a smartass, a fire burning in those blue eyes.

“What can I say? Beauty is found in the strangest of places. I wasn't exactly expecting a fucking Goddess to walk out of that closet.” He smirked at the way her cheeks reddened further, how easily he made her squirm in her seat. After he let her settle in for a while, he was going to give her the offer of being his wife for fucking sure. If she said no, he was going to lose it, the taste of her already a flavor on the tip of his tongue. Negan wasn't just a taste kind of guy, though, he wanted a mouthful and then some.

“There,” Her bounded arms rose, left pointer finger motioning to a break in the highway that turned down a gravel road. “The road wounds around a bit, but it'll take us straight to the entrance. There used to be a sign but we figured it was better to take it down.”

“We?” He questioned, gravel road rumbling beneath the trucks tires. For a moment her face faltered, eyes falling down to her tied hands. “There was more of us, but it's just Matthew and I now.”

“What happened to your sister?” Venturing there he knew was painful, but he wanted to know the girl he was taking in, the girl he wanted to make one of his wives.

“Childbirth,” A pause in her voice, a break, “At first it all seemed okay...but the blood wouldn't stop.” Swallowing, she looked away, eyes looking out the window at the forestry they passed. “What about you? Who have you lost in this world?” Her voice had gone gritty and low, a certain hollowness pertaining to it.

“No one I couldn't replace.” Negan knew how harsh his words seemed, realized she probably was looking at him in a new light. He did with purpose, he couldn't have her thinking he was so gentle all the time, that he would let whatever future sins she faltered under slide.

^^^  
Ava felt like the gravel road went on forever, wounding around and around, an endless circle that they would never escape from. The surrounding forest seemed stretched, disfigured and darkened in such a way that she felt almost timid in its presence, much like she did around Negan Slowly, the gate that surrounded the entire warehouse became visible, silver top rusted from too many rainfalls.

Immediately she was sitting up in her seat, scooting forward to such an extent that the seat belt strained against her chest. “Right here.” Wiggling, she was trying to undo the belt clip with her tied hands, a slight chuckle coming from Negan's lips. “Hold on, sweetheart.”

Leaning over her, she could feel the heat that radiated off of him, a rugged blanket against her exposed skin. Her breath stopped, her heart racing, eyes staring straight up into his. The hard muscle of his chest brushed the soft plumpness of her own, a slight shiver running through her body that she just barely managed to contain. The interaction only lasted seconds, the clicking of the belt there and gone, along with the muscled form of the unexpected man who' had quite literally swooped into her life.

“Can you undo my hands?” Her voice was almost pouty, eyes looking up at him through her thick lashes. _Fuck_ , Negan had to strain against his self control, cock twitching beneath his jeans. She was like a dollop of whipped cream, sweet and full, one spoonful never enough. His mind drifted for a moment, her hands tied under different circumstances, laying in his bed with nothing but the silken sheets against her bare skin.

Curtly, he nodded, taking her own knife from his pocket and cutting the rope. Her slender fingers went to her wrists, rubbing at the red marks the rough material left behind. “We never messed with the lock at the actual entrance...I just climb the gate.”

“What it this place?” Negan was studying the building, from the sturdy brick walls to the metal gates that surrounded it. “Some kind of factory?”

“A furniture warehouse. Mattresses, bed frames, cribs...” Her voice trailed off, hand rising to tuck a stray strand of auburn hair behind her ear, an escapee from her bun. “It's all yours, if you want it.” Her offer hung in the air, as if it was the most casual interaction in the world.

“Jesus Christ, you're like a fucking fruit basket with a fifty dollar gift card tucked in the bottom. I could kiss you, baby cakes.” He smacked her thigh, and then he was out of the truck, slamming the door behind him. Ava was quick to follow, eager to get over the gate and to her nephew, practically bouncing on the tips of her toes.

Negan talked quickly with his men, giving his directions in simple and short sentences. “Keep your guns ready. No bullshit.” Then his attention was on her, eyes gleaming, “Need any help over the gate?”

“I can manage,” She quirked a smile, and then she was climbing, moving over the gate like it was nothing more than a few steps. Once she was at the top she jumped, landing on her feet with a slight grunt. Even Negan seemed surprised by her quickness and agility, to which she couldn't help but grin, “I was a gymnast.” Her mind wandered back to that time, a past life that seemed like it happened decades ago and not a few years.

It took Negan's men a little longer to maneuver over the gate, but they were nearly as adept as she. Wherever they came from, their was some sort of training, something that enabled them for almost any obstacle. They all nearly looked the same, dark haired, mid twenties to early thirties. Expect for one, blonde haired, kept long rather than the shaved hair cut the other two kept. Another characteristic that set him aside was the grizzly scar on his cheek, as if the flesh had melted before forming once more.

  
Ava didn't stare, scars weren't a rarity anymore, and she held more than her own fair share beneath the covering of her clothing.

“Lead the way, hot stuff.” Negan gestured to her, Lucille taking up her typical homage on his shoulder. She'd ask more questions on the bat later, but for now she was too preoccupied with getting back to Matthew. He was only a few doors away, left longer than he ever had been before. Moving quickly, they were silent, the only sound the scraping of their boots atop the concrete.

The door she brought them to was large, thick and metal, so solid that no one would get through without the key. Kneeling down, she dug in the dirt, combing away weeds and rocks until she found the little tin container that held the key. They'd been lucky, finding an array of keys on a large silver chain in the office area. It was tucked away safely in the desks wood drawer, waiting for the next work day to come. Sliding it in place and then turning the key, a slight click, and they were in, Ava pulling the door open before tucking the key away in her top, Negan and his men following suit. 

Inside smelt musty, the floors cement, the walls the same and stretching high to the ceiling. Rows of cardboard boxes were stacked high, gray pictures showcasing what was inside decorating their sides. It was dimly lit, the only source of light the small windows, sanctioned off closely to the ceiling. Then, the sound, the most pitiful wails Negan had ever heard in his entire life. Ava was off, practically running through the upcoming archway, before moving to the right and opening a door. Her form dipped over something wooden, with bars on the sides, a crib.

“It's okay,” She hushed, scooping something in her arms, the trailing end of a knitted blue blanket at her hip. “Shhh,” Slowly, she rocked, the wailing growing softer and softer until they dissolved into mere hiccups. Watching her made Negan feel almost uncomfortable, as if he were intruding on something personal. He'd never had children, couldn't remember a time where he ever held an infant. Such soft and gentle behavior wasn't something he was used to seeing, and especially not being in such close proximity to.

The little room, once a office, had been turned into a make shift bedroom of sorts. Pulled into the corner was a mattress, covered in a mass of mismatched blankets and deflated pillows. On top of the desk were packages of bottled water, stacked five high, still bound in their plastic coverings, a “Best Choice” logo on their fronts. Beside it were the two containers of baby formula, nestled against others cans and paper packages of food. Then there was the carefully folded baby clothes, little footsie pajamas patterned onesies, socks so tiny he didn't think they'd fit on the tip of his fingers.

He watched her go over to the desk, a blanket tucked over her shoulder, to which she used one hand to pluck free and smooth down over the wooden surface. Then, carefully, as if her little bundle was made of glass, she set him down atop the baby blue blanket. Negan was sure he'd never seen a human so small, so tiny and fragile, so _weak_. A little tuff of dark hair, barely enough to be really considered hair for that matter, stood up on the rounded head. Rounded cheeks, little pink trembling lips.  She undid the buttons of his onesie, pulling the little chubby arms and legs free, hands balled into fists.

A hand on his belly, the other reaching down, grabbing at one of the desks is drawers and pulling it open, grasping both a diaper and a thin package of wipes in her hand. The rest was quick, a task she'd completed a thousand times, half asleep, head light with hunger, eyes aching with exhaustion. His diaper had soaked through his clothes, a situation that would usually warrant a bath. She didn't want to keep Negan waiting though, so instead she used the near gone package of wipes to clean him up as best she could.

Negan watched this all with closeness, something stirring his chest, a want he had never felt before in his mind. Most of his sexual conquests were just that, sexual, full of lust and late night fucks. It was never an emotional thing, not since long before the old world ended. There were women at The Sanctuary who had children, little toddling things on chubby legs, who looked up at him with their wide eyes and rosy cheeks. He didn't see them care for them, though, and no one had actual babies, nothing close to the bread loaf sized infant in front of him. Emotions weren't something he allowed himself to feel, to dwell on. Yet here he was, standing in some abandoned furniture warehouse, looking at a woman he had just met care for a baby that wasn't theirs, wasn't even hers, and something in the pit of his mind was yearning.

Realizing just how long he and his men had been standing their, he quickly cut the chick flick moment, turning to Dwight and speaking in a hushed manner. Usually he would bark out orders like a fucking General, but he didn't want to risk making the little shit cry. “Dwight, start loading up whatever you can fit in the jeep and the back of the truck. Blankets, pillows, the shit in here, anything small. We'll come back for the other stuff later.”

Dwight took a minute even to respond, his eyes on the infant. Babies were a rarity int his world, almost too innocent to exist in a place so seemingly corrupted. Still, he nodded, and then he was off, telling orders to the others, doing what he did best; getting shit done. Without realizing it, Negan's eyes wandered back to Matthew, and to the girl in the closet, the girl who was stirring more emotions in him that he thought had left.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ava's past is like a tattoo beneath her eyelids, never leaving, always haunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potentially triggering sexual abuse references at the beginning of the chapter.

_Emalee pushed her fingers hard into Ava's palm, looking into her eyes with a hardness her little sister had not seen there before. Her wrist was held onto tightly by Father Malachi, white prints painting her skin that would soon form to bruises. Ava watched, the only member of her family left, dragged away into Malachi's office. She would be next, arms out wide, as if she were crucified to the carpeted floor, bearing the cross of the world their Lord had forgotten._

 

_She opened her palm, a red dot at the center, right where the rusty nails would be once he strung her up, one of Emalee's birth control pills. Sobs built in her throat, but she held them there, captured them and forced them down until they were nothing more than a bittersweet taste on the tip of her tongue. Pressing the pill against her lips she swallowed, trembling hands still shaking against her chin long after it went down._

 

“ _And God blessed them. And God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth.”_ His words were an imprint in her brain, carved in with a knife, seared with the fire of hell.

 

_His breath would be hot on her neck, lips nibbling her flesh, nails raking their way down her body, “Yet she will be saved through childbearing—if they continue in faith and love and holiness, with self-control.”_

 

^^^

Ava sat up abruptly, coming up from her dream like a diver swimming up from the bottom of the ocean. It took her a moment to realize where she was, to remember that she was safe and sound, Matthew's warmth a comforting reminder against her breast.

 

“Ava?” That voice, gruff, so deep it nearly frightened her once more. Negan, his hands on the steering wheel, fingers bound in leather gloves. “Are you alright?” He was frightening but yet concerned, a contradiction she couldn't quite figure out how to read.

 

“A bad dream.” Her voice wasn't as strong as she hoped it would be, preferred it to be, a mere shake ridden whisper in the truck. Adjusting Matthew's weight, she held her pointer finger beneath his little nose, feeling relief when his warm breath tickled her skin. She always feared one day he would be gone, that she'd wake to his form cold, to the virus that plagued everyone embedded within his hardly formed bones.

 

Negan didn't question her further, knowing there was a time and place for subjects that weren't as lighthearted as most of their playful banter. “We're almost their, but I need you to do something.” Taking his right hand from the steering wheel, he opened the glove box in front of her, arm brushing her knee. Clicking it open, he grasped a black bag from within and held it out to her, “We can't have people we don't fully trust yet knowing where we are, it's nothing against you, but you understand.”

 

 _Yes, she did_ , more than he knew. Carefully prying a hand from beneath the sleeping infant, she maneuvered the clothe bag over her head.

^^^

It wasn't a comfortable experience, being in a vehicle with a man you hardly knew, a bag over your head that kept your warm breath in the threads of its fabric. Her hold on Matthew tightened the entire way of their blind entrance, fingertips smoothing the little bit of hair. There was a slight bump, the vehicle moving over something textured, a crank of metal as something closed behind them. The hum of the truck went silent, the air conditioning no longer blowing against the exposed skin of her legs and upper thighs.

 

Negan moved from his side, gathering something, probably the bat he referred to as “Lucille”, his door slamming behind him. Matthew lurched in her arms, startled by the sudden loud noise that woke him from his slumber. She was thankful he didn't begin to wail, his tiny form nuzzling into her chest.

 

The door to their right opened, a rush of cool air flowing against the both of them. “One second,” Negan's hand carefully took the bag from her head, careful to not pull her hair in the process. He'd save the hair pulling for better, more exciting future activities.

 

For a moment she was almost blinded, so used to the darkness of the outside world, from the last several hours, combined with the blindfolding technique. “Come on, let's get the two of you inside. Little Shit over here's woken up.” She glanced down at her newly nicknamed nephew, his eyes, the same blue as both his Mother and aunt, staring up at her. He'd slept nearly the entire ride, waking up only one to be changed and fed before falling back into blissful slumber.

 

Undoing her buckle, she slid from the seat, nearly falling when her stiff legs met the floor. Negan caught her, an arm around her waist, her form pressed against his solid chest, baby nestled in the center of the two. “You're awfully fucking clumsy for a past gymnast, sweetheart.”

 

Heat rushed to her cheeks, a characteristic that made her so God damn appealing to him. She still held some innocence, in a world where shit worse than peoples most haunting nightmares in the old world were around every corner. Reclaiming herself, she let out an airy breath, eyes meeting his without a single blink, “What can I say...you make me weak in the knees.” She was stroking his ego, repaying him with some of the same flirtatious manner he bestowed upon her.

 

He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear, fingers skimming up and down her waist, “You'd be a fucking beauty on your knees, darlin'.” Then he pulled away, cocky grin on his face, giving not a single sign he'd been up for over twenty four hours. Keeping his hand tight around her, he barked orders at Dwight, leaving him in charge while he took care of her, got her where he wanted her.

 

 

Ava allowed herself to lean into him as they walked, her arms heavy and body aching with exhaustion. It wasn't a new feeling, the overwhelming sleep deprivation that made her eyes feel heavy and dry. Still, no matter how many times she felt it, she never quite grew used to it, body always begging for a moment to let its guard down. What she had seen so far of the sanctuary was impressive, electricity seemingly everywhere, insulated air that was as crisp as it would have been in the days before the fall. She had been sleeping in a furniture warehouse while this man ran a fucking kingdom and named himself ruler of everyone and everything.

 

“Holy fuck.”

 

“Oh, there won't be anything holy about it.”

 

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised, “Aren't men your age supposed have lowered sex drives?”

 

“Fucking ouch, she strikes! Tell ya what, if you keep that up I'm going to have to punish you.” Truth be told, he liked how well she kept up with him, all sass with a great ass. In part it was because she didn't know what he was capable of, that he had adapted and built his sanctuary up from the bones and blood of people to fucking stupid and useless to realize what he was stealing. She had yet to see him burn a mans face, or take Lucille down atop some sorry son of a bitches skull until it was nothing but a mushy pulp.

 

That's when he realized he'd left Lucille in the garage, abandoned his favorite girl for someone he barely knew. He'd make it up to her later, let her get a drink of the blood she so often craved. Still, his fingers twitched uncomfortable, not used to the lack of solid, smooth wood beneath and between them. It wasn't as if he couldn't take on a woman with a baby barehanded, no, he was more than capable of taking someone out without his favorite weapon. Still, though, the ache was there, and he wouldn't make the mistake of leaving her behind again.

 

 

“You'll get a better tour later, for now you need to rest, eat something, so does he.” He nodded his head toward Matthew, contently quiet, watching the new figure with wide eyes. Negan was the first masculine figure his eyes had yet to see, the broad and tall form different than the soft plush one of Ava.

 

“You said...you have a doctor, right?” She questioned, stopping for a moment and looking up, continuing when he gave her a nod, “Could he look at Matthew tomorrow, make sure that everything is alright with him?”

 

“I'll have you both checked out tomorrow, come on. Stop worrying. You're safe.” With a final, slightly hesitant nod, she followed him down the dimly lit hallway.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, work and school have been kicking my ass. This chapter was originally going to be part of one long one but I have to take a break so I decided to just upload it. The second part of it will be posted by this evening.

The water burned, each droplet feeling almost like acid when it connected with her flesh. Ava let it burn, let it scorch her skin with a flushed red that was not its own. Negan had left her an assortment of different soaps, shampoo bottles clothed in pink, conditioner bottles that promised to fixed split ends and give volume. There was at least three different body washes, different bars of soaps, Bath And Body Works lotions, even a a blue razor on the side of the sink. Each item was set up like soldiers, a carefully laid out plan to make her his own, to draw her in through any persuasion he could think of. 

She had clicked each cap open, breathed in their scent, let her senses partake in something different than rotting flesh and musty corridors. In the days before the outbreak, a life that seemed not even her own, she often crowded around the lotion booths and perfume stands of malls. Something about smelling good always made her feel better, more whole, now it brought a sense of humanity about her that seemed almost foreign. She had tried to bathe herself as much as possible, but water was a precious commodity, and often enough any spare bathing water was used on Matthew. 

Using a drop of each soap he provided, she scrubbed and swirled it into her skin roughly with a textured sponge. It took everything off, from her top layer of skin to any dirt that clung to her, along with all the sweat she had managed to work up in the sizzling Georgia weather. If he wanted her to use his gifts, she would, she would bathe and bask in them so that when she left his shower his preferred scent would be on her skin. 

Dirt swirled beneath her toes, a hurricane above the silver drain before plunging down into whatever sewer system the community had managed to set up. She watched, her toenails bare, the twirl of a single lavender stem tattooed on her left ankle. It was her first sin against the catholic church, yet not the last, her newest sins far worse than a colored needles' prick. 

For a while she simply stood beneath the shower head, let the hot water wash away the phantom touches of a man long dead. Still, they caressed her skin, sickly sweet, a painful memorandum. It was only when the water lost its heated tinge that she eased the faucet off, clinging to each and every last drop. She hadn't meant to take so long, to waste such a precious recourse, but she wasn't too concerned. Negan had told her to take as long as she needed, so she had. Ringing her hair out, she took the tower from the rack sanctioned beside the large shower tub combination, drying her skin before wrapping it around her form. He didn't offer her any other clothes, her soiled ones in a pile on the tile floor.   
Ava was keen on putting the sweat soaked and God knows what else fabric back on her fresh skin, so she gathered them up and sat them on the sink. Had he done this on purpose? An additional game of his? Lucky for him, she happened to be an excellent player. 

Standing in front of the mirror, her skin losing its red and nearly glowing under the florescent lights, she let her mind wander as her eyes ran over the features of her face. In a way she looked the same, but in others, far different. In a different life, a world long gone, she avoided the sun and applied copious amounts of sunscreen in an attempt to block out any potentially harmful rays. Now though her creamy skin was gone, replaced with a bronzed tone. Her hair was longer, reaching just above her hip, a past trait she had held onto. Even with the risk of someone, dead or alive, using it as leverage to grab onto, she had held onto it and substituted with buns and braids. 

She was aware that her physical appearance peaked his interest, she just needed to figure out how to use it to her advantage. It wasn't as if he didn't appeal to her, he was far too good looking for his own good, reminding her of the male actors she and Emalee had giggled over in their magazines. Men twice their age, married with three other ex wives, but gorgeous and endearing never the less.   
It was as if she was above sleeping with him, no, she wasn't stupid enough to let her past morals get in the way of not just survival, but living an actual life, of giving Matthew everything Emalee wanted. Sex was still a tricky topic with her, however, one she wasn't sure how to address, nor when she would be ready to. If it would gain his complete trust, she would have to deal with it, push it to the side and let the emotions of it rattle her until it was over. Ava needed him to want her, to need him just as much as she needed him. She couldn't be a one night stand, a one time bite, he had to crave her until he was addicted.


	7. Chapter 7

Negan brought his tea to his lips, enjoying the comforting warmth that radiated from its constant flowing steam. Outside the sun had no doubt began to rise, but he shut it out by drawing closed the thick velvet curtains that framed the single large window of his office. He preferred dusk to dawn, when the world was quieter and the hustle and bustle of workers calmed to a slow. Even before everything went to shit, he was often enough up until two or three in the morning, enjoying the night's gentle chill and star scattered sky.

The door to his bathroom was still closed, light glowing from beneath it, his thoughts trailing to the young woman who was so close yet so far. He imagined her working the soap over her flesh, her fingertips running over each of her curves for the application of lotion. Entailed wasn't a good enough word to describe how felt about her, no, he fucking _wanted her_. Wanted to feel how soft she truly was, dive between those perfect as fuck thighs and try to fill an unquenchable thirst. He felt like a fifteen year old boy again, hiding in the basement with a dust laden playboy, glancing at his first pair of tits.

Matthew let out a wail, the little shit no doubt purposely interrupting his fantasy world. Setting his cup down on his desk, Negan stood, unsure how to proceed. Children weren't something he quite knew how to deal with, he didn't even let them attend the public punishment sessions he occasionally dealt. This child couldn't even sit up on his own, his tiny frame seemingly breakable as he hovered over him.

A crib was in the process of being located through the mass areas of storage they had, huge tin buildings stuffed to the brim with items they could potentially need at some point. For the time being they settled for a white laundry basket, a pillow in the bottom with a white sheet tucked over it. No doubt, it wasn't pediatrician approved, but it saved Negan from having to hold a baby the entire forty five minutes Ava was in the bathroom.

Raising his chubby fists, the loaf sized human let out a grunting coo, a demand to be given attention. “Listen...I'm not exactly qualified to be your personal cuddler.” He peered down, for a moment wondering how his life had come to debating with an infant. Then again, he also named a bat and talked to it on the regular, so really.

A red tint came to Matthew's face, lower lip beginning to tremble. “Shit...” Negan glanced at the door, giving no sign of opening. Slowly, he lowered one of his large hands, setting it atop the infants chest and belly. “You're just a little shit, aren't you?” He spoke quietly, coaxing him with a gentleness he didn't typically use. Letting one of his fingers caress the infants cheek, skin soft agaist his calloused digits, he hummed softly in attempt at a lullaby.

He felt like it took hours, the fluttering eyelids finally closing, little fists clenched tightly around Negan's thumb and forefinger. After his breathing became easy and soft, the feared leader of the Savior's finally let out a quiet breath and removed his hand from the slumbering child's grasp.

 “You're good with him.”

Ava's voice nearly made him jump, something he managed to contain. He didn't allow anyone to see him without control, if he lost his control, he lost everything. Slowly turning to her, he gave a cocky grin.

“I'm good at most things.”

A twitch at her full lips, the shadow of a smile he would ease out of her soon, “Do you have children? Or...did you?” Her inquiry was careful, eyes watching him with concern in case she had hit a sore spot, an area most had now days. 

“No, it never happened, probably for the best.” It was a struggle to force his eyes to stay on her face, to not slowly rake his eyes down her nude form, clad in only in a white towel.

They had tried, he and Lucille, there lives for nearly a decade dominated by fertility treatments and expensive doctor appointments. Seven times, they thought they had it, seven pregnancy tests that all held the blazing blue words, “Pregnant”. Most of the pregnancies ended as soon as they happened, heartbeats disappearing long before the first ultrasound. Lucille's shirt would be above her abdomen, shiny with gel as she put on a brave face and hoped. The first time they were told it was normal, that the tiny cells had never bloomed, instead being reabsorbed by its Mother's body.

Number seven, though, number seven had been different. By that time they had stopped trying, stopped the pills and shots, the constant check ups, ovulation checks and attempts at sex. She was two months in when they finally took the test, her body laid once more in that dim room, the smallest shadow of a baby on the screen. They listened to her heartbeat, their daughters chorus of life, and together they had wept.

Two months later, only a week after finding out their daughter was a she, Lucille woke up with thick blood coating her thighs, staining the white sheets like a spilled bottle of ink. She woke him up screaming, her body shaking, face paler than the moonlight.

Fifteen minutes later they were in a hospital room, that sam gel on her belly, now rounded, the same black and white screen. There was no heartbeat, no life, only their infants daughters incredibly tiny and lifeless form. Twelve hour later their daughter was born, smaller than his hand, Lucille's nose and his lips. Twenty four hours later they were home, and forty eight later, they buried her. He had thrown away the sheets, dragged the mattress to the dump and purchased a new one within the hour.  After that they didn't speak of pregnancy again, didn't acknowledge the unopened cardboard box with her crib still inside. Her room was abandoned, their hopes to early, their joy short lived.

Lucille grew quieter and quieter until soon he didn't even sleep in the same bed, his body tangled in the sheets of other women. Months later she had cancer, the life leaving her just as the world's shit storm began. In the end he didn't even get the bury her next to their daughter, and he left both of them behind, evacuating the city with nothing left of him on the inside.

“Negan?” Ava spoke softly, moving closer to him, setting her hand on his forearm.

“Sorry, been up for longer than I'm used to.” He flashed her a smile, clearing his throat and mentally swearing at himself. “You smell nice.” He looked down at her, form close, inhaling the citric scents billowing from her. “Like a fucking orange juice commercial or some shit.”

A roll of her eyes, the slight quirk of a smile on her lips, “You really know how to flirt.” The towel had slipped, the valley of her cleavage more exposed. This time, he let his eyes drop, let himself take in the site before him. “Can I....borrow a shirt?” She tilted her head to one side, all that auburn hair drying into waves, flowing over her left shoulder.

“Mmm...are you gonna give me something in return?” He narrowed his eyes playfully, leaning closer so that he could feel the warmth of her skin, practically blazing off her.

“A kiss?” A flutter of dark lashes, full lips slightly parted. _Son of a bitch_ , she was good at this game.

He tilted her chin up, running his rough thumb over her lower lip, as smooth as cream and just as appealing. Bringing his lips to hers, he contained a groan, other hand resting on her waist for a moment before trailing down the curve from her narrow waist to the jut of her hips. Fingertips gripping the towel, he tugged at it in an almost animistic manner, wanting it off the flesh he do desperately craved.

Then, all too soon, she broke the kiss, eyes wide as she stared up at him, “Negan...Matthew's right there, and...” Her voice trailed off, almost too soft, fighting for what else to say.

Grunting, he nodded, “You...can stay in my room for the night.” It came out before he could think of it, his hand rising to run his fingertips over his beard. “I'll get you a shirt...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any spelling mistakes, I need to get to sleep for work in the morning and I'll make sure to clean the chapter up after I'm off. Also, obviously the whole fertility issue thing isn't cannon. We don't know much about Negan before everything went bad, so I want to give him some sort of story to fit in there. Thank you for all your love :) <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of chapter 8, wanted to make it all one big chapter but life is busy and I wanted to give something.

“What is this place?” Ava sat in a leather chair, as smooth and dark as Negan's slicked hair. Matthew was asleep, swaddled in his blue blanket and cradled in the walls of a playpen. It almost felt odd, seeing him in a setting that was so normal, so untouched by the decrepit stain of the outside world. Even the way she had woken up that afternoon was startling, in a bed with sheets, a ceiling fan swirling at a steady pace overhead. 

“A factory, some of the buildings were more construction base. Others were more office like, even had gyms and showering facilities for whatever lucky fuckers were employed, and even luckier for us, saved us the hassle of too much plumping work.” He folded his arms behind his head, leaned back into his chair. He studied the outfit he had chosen for her, black athletic leggings, a long sleeved blouse, forest green and clinging to her chest. An obvious overflow of flesh could be seen even through the fabric, breasts not completely contained by the bra he had chosen. Damn, he had considered himself a pretty good judge of cup sizes.

“Have you never seen a pair of tits before?”

Her bluntness surprised him, a low chuckle coming from his lips. 

“So if I say no, does that mean you'll be my first?” Husky, gravely, he grinned at the way he made her face flush. He thought of their kiss the night before, only the towel to keep her form from him. He had already ventured to Maya's room right after he put Ava to bed, buried himself deep in her warmth and let his mind wander.

It was Maya's body he was inside of, but not the one he thought of, instead he pretended it was Ava's, body bursting with curves, thighs thick and breasts bouncing. She was soft and plump yet narrow and firm, his fingers begging to trace the hourglass of her narrow waist and curvy hips. Each inch of her had him so fucking enchanted he managed a fuck fest after a day and a half of not sleeping, adrenaline pumping through him and his cock until finally he finished. Negan was a man who got what he wanted, no matter how much he had to work her, tease her, he would play her strings until he knew each and every beat perfectly.

“How did you sleep?” When he saw her up at three it was upsetting, her form stirring after only seven hours of rest. He had hoped she would give into her exhaustion and in turn he'd let one of the girls cuddle and coo over Matthew while she rested. They'd been driving him fucking crazy since they caught Dwight moving baby shit into what he planned as Ava's room, begging to finish setting it up themselves. 

They fingered through onesies and footed pajamas, looked at each item of clothing and folded them perfectly. Sherri was the only one who didn't seem as interested, leaning against the wall with her arms folded over her chest. She would give the occasional smile, but nothing more, her eyes constantly looking back to Negan whenever he glanced in the room. The other wives didn't question him, but she always did, always pushed and pulled for whatever information she could get. 

“I slept...,” A pause, hesitation as her brow furrowed, “Better than usual.” Her eyes stayed down, teeth grazing over her lower lip in search of dry skin. 

“Where did you come from, before I found you? It's been two years since things went sour, you've had something going for you if you've made it this far. Yet, you didn't even have a gun when we searched you. There wasn't even one at the warehouse, which seems pretty fucking stupid, something I don't think you are.” 

“I don't like guns,” Her voice was firm, head up, eyes on his. “They aren't my choice of weapon, something I think you can appreciate.” Ava's pale blue eyes moved to Lucille, his leading lady, laid out on his desk with her barbed wires freshly bleached. 

“I always have a gun on me, regardless.” He grasped Lucille's handle, slowly turned her around in a circle, almost cradled her in his big arms, “Do you not know how to shoot?”

God, if only he fucking knew. 

“I'm more than able.” She crossed her arms over her chest, then left leg over the right, “But I don't like them.”

“This isn't the fucking old world, political debates over gun control isn't an option.” Irritation had risen in his voice along with its volume, grip on Lucille's handle tightening. 

“We were with our church.” Subject changed, eyes never wavering from his knuckles, fading yellow to white, if she was frightened she didn't show it, “Dad thought the world was ending, took us to pray and repent and cleanse our fucking souls or some shit. He wasn't a religious freak or a nut job or whatever insult you're thinking, but he was a devoted catholic. To him, that was the best he could do, the only way to save us. I wanted to leave, to get the fuck out and stay away from all the supposed Red Cross camps and vaccination centers. There was enough leaked videos and shit online, this wasn't just an Ebola outbreak they could correct in a few months. People knew, files were leaking all over the fucking place but the government was desperate to keep everybody in line. Dad wouldn't budge though, and Emalee and I couldn't just leave him behind, he was our Dad for Christ's sake.”

 

“Emalee...your sister.” He nodded slowly, continued to listen, didn't try and push more gun bullshit on her. 

“And so we stayed in the church,” Tone going softer, she tapped her fingers against their place on her opposite forearm, “Months went by, nothing happened, no superior being saved us from from our supposed “Judgment Day”, everybody in that church died, one by one. Dad, Emalee...It was just another shit storm, another causality of this new world.” 

She hoped he couldn't see through her thoughts, identity how much she left out and skimmed through. It wasn't as if she was lying, leaving out the painful memories was the only way she could give him any sort of synopsis on the past two years. 

“You don't strike me as the religious sort.” His face was unreadable, hazel eyes not wavering. 

“Neither do you.” 

“What's your full name?” He set Lucille back down, folded his hands and set them on his desk. 

“Avaline Grace. Why?”

“Avaline?” He looked almost amused, a hinting dimple on his cheek.  
“What can I say, Mama was an interesting one. What about you?”

He shrugged, the budding dimple unfurling and growing until a wide grin was set on his face, pearly white teeth practically glowing, “Doesn't fuckin' matter sweetheart, I'm Negan, everyone and everything.”

Cocking her head, she studied him, but didn't comment, didn't look shocked or afraid, didn't question a word he said, “You know, being “other people” is a major sign of personality disorder.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploading while the premier is on commercial, I know a lot of you want her to be all kicky ass heck no I AM YOUR ONLY WIFE, and I promise that's to come. However, right now, Ava's thoughts are on Matthew. As time goes on and she finds herself developing legitimate feeling for Negan, his other five wives will become more of an issue.

“You know, baby doll, normally I'm not a fan of chicks with giant mother fucking nut sacks...but in your case, I'm even more enthralled.” His grinned seemed to stretch across his entire face, queuing a slight crinkle just below his eyes, “Let's get one fucking thing straight though...” He stood, leaning down and slamming his hands on each side of the desk. “I'm in fucking charge, and no matter how much I think you're hot, no matter how mother fucking much I want you to be mine, if I so much as think you're disrespecting me, doubting me, trying to over power me...I will put you in your place. Whether it be by locking your sweet little ass up, or smashing your pretty head in with Lucille.” Grasping the barb wire covered bat, he smirked, using the tip to tilt her chin up.

Ava watched him, her eyes calm, not flinching when his voice rose with his threats, or even when the tip of the bat was pressed against the softness of her flesh “Why would I have any reason to do that?” Her lips stayed slightly apart, full and pink, creating a perfect “o” shape. “Do I look fucking incapacitated?” Her eyes narrowed, the pale blue teeming with purple, “I have no reason to try and one up you, I would be a fucking idiot to even try. I'm a woman with a baby, I'm as fucking helpless as it comes, and even if if I wasn't...” Her voice softened, “You've given a meaning to life again, and I wouldn't be the one to try and ruin that.”

“Not everybody agrees with the way things are done here...with the rules and balance I have to put it in place for us to thrive.” Slowly he returned to his seat, knuckles still a straining white around Lucille, “Without fear in this new world, in this freshly created society, nothing will function.”

She paused, looking at him with a long thoughtful gaze, “If it works, if you're keeping people alive and safe...then you're doing something right.”

Matthew began to wail, his cries echoing off the dark walls of Negan's office. Ava rose from her seat, leaning over the play pen and carefully lifting him into her arms. She minded his head, offered him careful support for his developing muscles. “You're okay, you're safe.” For the first time she meant it as she spoke.

                                                                                                                           ^^^^  
Negan watched her the entire time she cared for Matthew, something he caught himself doing often since their lives collided. He didn't want to snap at her, to raise his voice and potentially frighten her, but he had to let her know how his world worked.

Slowly laying him down, Ava kissed his forehead softly before swiping her finger over his darkening curls. “Sleep well, little lamb.”

Returning to her seat, she sat with her legs crossed over one another, fingers intertwined and hands folded atop her lap. For a rare moment she didn't meet his eyes, as if she was considering the pros and cons of something.

“You have two choices.” His voice regained her attention, head bobbing up to look at him, “You work, earn, and in turn provided. You bust your ass everyday to help ensure this place keeps going like it should.”

“And option two?” She quirked her dark brows, voice budding in before he could continue.

“I'm getting there, princess. Patience is a virtue, if you don't get that through your head I'm going to have to spank it into you until you learn some obedience.” Grinning, he watched her flush, shifting in her seat a bit as she gathered herself, “Behind door number two...is the fucking gift of a lifetime, set aside only for a select few, those I have warranted as my own little fucking slice of perfection. Instead of wasting away like the rest of those sorry fucks, you can stay here, with your own room. You'll never have to trial and error for food, work your body to the fucking bone, hand Matty boy off to some stranger for the day. The only requirement will be being becoming mine.”

“Yours?” She sounded almost breathless, frowning for a moment, “Like...”

“Like my wife.”

“Isn't a few days into our relationship a little early to be popping the question, I mean, you could have at least bought me a drink first.” Shocked though she was, she was also pleased, her progress going much further and faster than she expected.

“You'll share a living area with the others, as well as a bathroom, but you'll have your own room.”

Ava's eyes snapped up, whoa, fucking wait a second, “The others? Just how many other women do you got calling themselves Mrs. Negan?”

“You'd be number six.” He gave her that same cocky grin, hazel eyes lit up with something like a leer, “Why? Is the little catholic girl not fond of sharing? Or does my polygamy go against your religion?”

“I'm not a fucking catholic.” If it wasn't for Matthew she would have screamed it, yelled it until her lungs popped like overfilled circus balloons.

He paused for a moment, almost as if he were regretful of his words before continuing, “Thank whoever the fuck is up there for that. Every time I ever heard about a priest in the news it was because he was raping some faithful clergy members kid.”

She felt her muscles flinch, felt her chest tighten like a python was squeezing her heart dry. Dropping her eyes, she swallowed, picking at a loose bit of black thread from her leggings. “I'll be your wife, if you make some accommodations.” Her tone was just a little higher than a whisper, not the strong sentences and flaming confidence he was used to.

“I'm listening.”

“I don't want to see them, your others, I'll stay in my room and not wander to close to anyone else with a dick but I don't want to live in a jointed apartment like a fucking clan of Mormons filming an episode of “Sister Wives”.” Then, as quickly as it was gone, her backbone had reamplified and straightened, “Allow me those few things and I am yours.”

He let out a long sigh, slightly irritated, but also just as impressed at her seemingly unquestioning decision at offering him her slight list of changes, “You eat with me, all three meals. On any occasion where I'm not available, your meals will be brought to you. We will eat at seven, noon, and five. From five to nine you will be with me, in my living area, my office, wherever I want you. You will be welcome to my books, television, computer, whatever you want to fuck with in my living room..including me.”

“And what about Matthew?”

“I will raise and provide for him, as if he were my own son.”

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

A wolf was in front of her, disguised as a man, offering her all of his gold.

“I'm yours.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! I've been working on a writing portfolio for college and unfortunately I can't include Negan fanfiction in it.

_Sleep, baby sleep._

_I'll lie next to you._

_The beauty of this mess_

_Is that it brings me close to you_

 

Matthew had been asleep for over an hour, but Ava held him still, his head tucked beneath her chin, the scent of baby shampoo trickling from his little puffs of hair. He hadn't been sure about his first real bath, his little form partially submerged in the warm water, suds sticking to chubby legs and roll prickled arms. His first instinct had been to cry, but several minutes later he was intrigued, kicking his legs and splashing Ava in the process.

She didn't want to put him in his new crib, where he would be on the other side of the room, further away from her own bed than he had ever been. Most nights before, when it was just the two of them, he'd end up in her own make shift “bed”, curled up in a nest of blankets with one of her arms around him. Safety was a new feeling, odd and foreign, her senses still prickling for any sign of danger, whether it be someones rotting, still walking corpse, or someone living and much more dangerous.

With a slight hesitation, she slowly rose, careful to not move her nephews sleeping form too much. Slowly walking to the crib, she lowered him down, his brow furrowing and little hands grasping at air, where the closest person he had to a Mother had been so shortly before. His footed pajamas were slightly too big, his legs too short to completely fill out the pant legs. Quicker than she wanted to admit, he found comfort even without her touch, nuzzling into the fitted cotton sheet beneath him.

Ava had yet to explore completely her room, put together especially for her and Matthew's needs. It was roomy, larger than her bedroom in her old family home had been. The bed was queen sized, memory foam, stacked with four pillows and layers of soft blankets before the simple white comforter that rested on top. He was taking care of her and then some, and she wasn't sure how to feel. Of course she was grateful, but she almost felt guilty, using someone for her own security. Eventually she would have to trade her body in for his hospitality, and the fear she felt behind that was nearly maddening.

Another oddity of the settlement, if that's what one would call it, was the electricity always seemingly running through the entire place. Negan had explained their use of solar panels, as well as several generators they had scavenged from homes and work buildings. For the lesser levels, there was stricter implementation of electricity rules. No lights in the housing buildings after seven, the public showers had a limitation of ten minutes of hot water, individuals who had a higher amount of points however could redeem them in order to use the other shower facilities with private stalls and twenty five minutes of hot water use.

She was given her own bathroom, small but doable with all the necessities. Who ever the room had belonged to before was important, high enough to be rendered there own bedroom and bathroom. It only had a shower, but the sink was large enough to be use for Matthew once he got older and no longer needed the plastic baby tub Negan had scavenged from storage for them. The same array of soaps and lotions he had provided earlier were centered on shelves, along with an assortment of perfumes, make up, and different face creams. It looked like he had robbed a Sephora, which honestly he probably had, and a secret part of her was excited about the luxurious pallets and brushes at her command. Was she expected to look the part of his “wife”? Negan liked his stuff to look nice, that much he had noticed, and she assumed that applied to her as well.

The closet of her bedroom had different dresses hanging from it, most of them an assortment of black, the material seemingly nylon, meant to cling with a tightness like that of a second skin. Fingering through them, she wasn't surprised to find lingerie in the back, deep reds, baby pinks, lace and frill, like something out of a Victoria Secret magazine. Lifting one of the sets from the rack, she held it in front of her chest, snorting, “If you're going to give me lingerie, at least get the cup size right.” Tucking it back away, she sighed, looking through the different items of clothing before she came to an acceptable night gown. Tugging her clothing off and tossing it into the hamper, including the too tight bra she'd been forced to wear all day, she felt a certain comfort when the silky fabric brushed against her bare skin.

A knock her door nearly startled her, but thankfully didn't wake Matthew from his sleep. The kid slept like a rock, it was rare for him not to sleep through the night. Slowly opening the door, she peaked out, breasts pushed flush against the door. She wasn't surprised to find Negan, Lucille in tow, resting atop his shoulder.

“Come on now, Baby Cakes, we're husband and wife now. You don't have to hide yourself from me.” His eyes trailed the thin strap of her night gown, knowing just which one it was. White, thin, low cut with just a slight bit of lace.

Quirking a brow, she slowly exposed herself inch by inch, the hallway a good several degrees cooler than her room. She could feel her nipples hardening, her arms folding quickly over her chest, no need to give the idea he was causing that reaction in her.

“Well fuck me! All ready for bed and you didn't invite me to join?” He grinned, placing one hand on the doorway and leaning over her. God, he's huge. Ava swallowed a bit, looking up at him through her thick lashes.

“There's a baby sleeping in my room, so if anything is going to involve the two of us in one bed...it'll have to be in yours.”

“Mmm, can't say I'd mind making some memories with you in my bed...” His eyes trailed down, admiring the way the night gown clung to her, “I wanted to invite you to spend some time with me tonight, you know, take a break from playing Mommy for a few hours.”

“What if he wakes up, and I'm not here?”

“Where do you think the baby monitor leads to? If he cries, we'll here it, I promise. Come on, I've got alcohol.” He wagged his black brows, a crooked grin bringing his dimples to light. It was impossible to not smile, and God, she missed being able to get drunk every once in a while.

“Fine.”


	11. Chapter 11

“This taste like shit, like liquefied, watered down, iced shit.” Negan looked legitimately disgusted, chiseled features crunched up like a toddler tasting its first lemon. 

“Oh, please.” Ava rolled her eyes, bringing the bottle of wine to her lips. It wasn't the best, she'd admit, some cheap strawberry shit that really just tasted like someone mixed kool-aid with vodka but added a few extra cups of sugar. Still, it did the job, her head already buzzing with the faint memory of intoxication. Burbon, vodka, hell even rum, she wasn't a major fan of by any means, the way it burned, the breath of drunken men it clung to. 

“Are you even twenty one? You hold the bottle like you've done this a time or two, maybe several, before.” Finishing off his glass of the sickly sweet liquid, he quickly refilled it with whiskey.

A roll of her eyes, he'd really have to start punishing her for that. She was down right enchanting, cheeks flushed, thick hair down completely. The nightgown was short, only coming to the top of her thighs, all his mental strength being willed whenever she scooted around or switched the crossing of her legs. Curiosity was peaking in his mind, which of the panties had she chosen to wear? He'd chosen them carefully, frill and lace, thongs, satin with little bows at the center, an entire variety of things he wanted to see her in, out of. His nights had become filled with clouded dreams that involved his mouth nuzzled between her thick thighs, teeth nipping and dragging the lingerie bottoms away. What did her noises sound like? Was she a wiggler? A back archer? What was her favorite position? So many questions, an entire life of matrimony to find out. 

“I'm twenty...” She trailed off, nibbling her lower lip for a second, “Do you know what month it is?” 

“October, the 7th, 2017.”

“I'll be twenty two in a few weeks. I started young, you could say.” Grinning, she dipped the bottle back, full lips wrapped around it and sipping greedily. His eyes traveled the shape of her chest, no bra, that much he was sure of. Being a self proclaimed tit man, he was pretty happy about the pair only a few feet away from him. 

“What else did you start at a young age?” 

“Nuh uh, don't even start.” 

“Come on, I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” He leaned forward on one hand, giving her his best smile, crinkling his face with the indentation of dimples. 

“The sex life of a catholic girl? The answer is pretty simple.” She put the bottle down, eyes moving away from his. Leaning forward, she grasped for a bottle of vodka, brought it to her lips and swallowed thickly. A grimace was begging to surface on her soft features, but she wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. Vodka was just as disgusting as she remembered, but that wasn't going to stop her from drinking it. Putting the bottle back down on his desk, her current make shift couch, she let herself lean forward a bit. Thin white strap dipping down over her shoulder, she cocked her head, “I didn't have one.”

“You've never....not even once?” Virgins weren't something he'd ever experimented in, not even his youth. 

“No, I have, but that's beyond the point.” Her brow had furrowed, eyes distant before they finally found his once more, “So, you said you have a computer? What's that about? And how, even?”

“It doesn't have any internet connection, not yet, anyway...that itself is a process in the making that I'm not sure we'll ever get under control. We can print, however, which is useful for keeping track of all the different people who come in, as well as the other settlements under our control. Simon likes to fuck around and play solitaire on it from time to time, though.” He snorted, shaking his head. 

“Simon...pornstache dude?”

“Por...yeah, that's uh..that's him, that's fucking hilarious.” Grinning, he ran his fingers over his own beard, “Mother fuckin' pornstache, God damn baby doll you are a fucking genius!”

“So I've been told.” Shaking the wine bottle, she frowned at the near empty sloshing, “What is this? One percent alcohol?” 

 

“Probably, you're the one that picked it out.” 

“I'll drink yours too, smartass.”

“God damn you got a mouth on you. I like that...” Rising from his couch, he leaned against his desk, watching her for a moment, “Matthew looks like you, a lot like you.”

“He looks like his Mama.” Her voice grew quiet, fingers clicking against the wine bottle. 

“What about Daddy? Not in the picture, I take it?” 

The clicking stopped, fingertips pushed so tightly against the glass she half expected it to burst. It felt like she had had the wind knocked out of her, lungs forgetting for a moment how to function. One day, she would have to tell him, or he'd find out one way or another. 

“I killed him.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for sexual assault triggers, there is a pretty in depth scene. This was hard to write but necessary, I feel.

“Why?” Their eyes had locked only seconds ago but it felt more adequately named as a lifetime, his expression unreadable, her own as wavering as stone.

^^^

_His body was hot, searing as he forced it to mend with her own flesh, as he sewed himself into every nook and cranny of her spine. He was a disease that infected from the inside out, a plague that speckled her skin in purple bruises and haphazard scars._

_“Avaline...” A deep noise, tongue tipped in pleasure, dipped in lust, like a hand reaching down her throat to pull the bile straight through her windpipe._

_She studied the ceiling, counted each and every ridge of its pale white plains, traced the cracks and pretended they were pathways on a map, miles that would take her far away from here. His voice giving sound to her name brought her attention back to him, skin so close she could make out a splay of pores and a sweep of facial hair._

_“You're so soft...” His fingertips dug into the flesh of her hip, nails prickling her skin, needles to a pincushion. A pick up in his movements, the crippling pain she could never quite grow used to. The tears that always came were like a safety net, covering her eyes in a shield from the world around her._

_So soft, you're so soft._

_His teeth nipped her neck, tasted her skin, violated every inch of her until every edge was burnt with his sin. “I know...” He spoke quietly before pressing a kiss at her collar bone, “That my attention has been on your sister more, since the conception of our child...” Another kiss, more rising bile to burn her throat, “But you know you've been special to me since day one...” He brought his lips to hers, forced his taste on her tongue._

_His lips moved to her forehead, resting for a moment as he continued, drank her up like the wine at communion._

_Pain, blood, bruises and scars._

_So soft, so soft._

_And she shall be saved through childbirth._

_His throat was just above her lips, porcelain in color, veins straining against the thin layer of skin. Ava tilted her chin up, tasted the salt of his skin, nipped at his skin. Her actions brought a noise of satisfaction from his lips, orchestrating a lurch in her stomach. It happened slowly, widening her jaw, letting her breath heat his skin for a moment._

_Pain, blood, bruises and scars._

_So soft, so soft._

_And she shall be saved through childbirth..._

_When she snapped her mouth shut, her teeth dug into his flesh, her head turning away and ripping a chunk of his throat with it. He was not rendered enough time to scream, the noise instead that came form his mouth a gurgling, wet thing, The warmth of his blood covered her, the only thing pausing her panic the adrenaline pounding through her veins. Shoving him off, she spit his skin from her mouth, hands shaking as she sought for what to do next._

_The white sheets were staining red, absorbing his escaping life with a thirsty desire. Fingertips brushing the cotton cased pillow to her left, she grasped it, before turning towards his form and pausing with it over his head. His eyes were still open, his mouth still fighting to speak, choking on his own blood and spiraling down his chin. Their eyes met for a moment, locked, his wide with the same fear she had felt for so long. Then, she brought the pillow atop his head, pressed down and suffocated the life out of him until his blood seeped through and coated her skin._

_So soft, so soft, so soft._

_The bile she had felt building for so long broke through, burning her insides while her body trembled. “Emalee...Emalee!_ ”

^^^

  
“Because some people deserve to die.” Her tone was strong, eyes hard as she remained eye contact. There was something, scratching just below the surface, desperate to come out. Even so, she buried it, didn't let the sorrow of the past break her in his presence.

His expression still wasn't readable, she wasn't sure it ever would be; his hazel eyes searching, studying, perhaps as desperate to figure out her as she was him. "A lot of people deserve to die, Ava. Knowing that is what keeps you going in this world, keeps you from crumbling under the weight of what the old world called humanity. Taking a chance on emotions of the past is the reason so many groups, communities, die."

Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead, the skin of his lips slightly rough and chapped, his beard slightly tickling her. Closing her eyes, she leaned into him, took a deep breath in through her nose and let it leave through her mouth. His warmth did not burn her, rather, she found it comforting; staying in it, she felt herself slowly sinking into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I obviously drew inspiration from the throat scene from Rick...I imagine that after so many months of being violated, one is bound to retaliate in a way they didn't think possible. I hope I portrayed it alright, cheers xoxo.


	13. Chapter 13

She had fallen asleep, head nuzzled into his chest like some kind of newly rescued kitten. He liked that, “Kitten”, he would have to interrogate it as his own personal nickname for her. It had been nearly a half an hour, and he couldn't help but pray Matthew would sleep through the night. If he happened to make a fuss, he would leave her be, hope he could figure out how to wrangle a diaper or mix a bottle. 

His other wives had their own personalities, that much he would admit. They were also, however, used to the life of luxury; their days were spent with expensive alcoholic brews, skin hydrated in expensive lotions, bellies full with foods only the highest of the high were entitled to. Sherry had glimpsed what it was truly like beyond their gated community, and even that was only for a moment. Maya was the only one besides Ava he could truly stand putting up a conversation with. The rest were good for a fuck and nothing else. 

. Ava had spent nearly two years on the other side, kept in some kind of religious fucking cult, or something at least close. Their was more to her story than she was telling him, and he knew it, but he didn't think she'd be a fan of him pushing her to tell more. More than likely she'd tell him to fuck off and grow even quieter. 

Moving slowly, in a similar fashion to how he had seen her handle a sleeping Matthew, he coaxed his arms beneath her. Left under her knees, right against her shoulder blades. Lifting her was the easy part, he had handled far more than a one hundred and forty pound woman before.

Moving to his bedroom, the door luckily open, he leaned over and quickly pulled the blankets back with his fingers, all the while still holding her sleeping weight. Once the sheets were left exposed, he settled her down into the plush bed. He had been a fan of gel memory foam mattress's when he and Lucille were together, and he had carried that liking over to his current life. Once he had he tucked in, he was no longer worried about the potential of waking her. Ava was in a deep sleep, the kind he was sure she had not had since before the dead started walking. It made him glad, seeing her get the rest she so desperately needed. 

After moving the baby monitor into his bedroom and placing it atop the side tables that decorated each side, he stripped his clothing from his body. Even though he would never admit it, Negan had a complete and utter adoration for showering nightly. He hated the guts, the blood, the nasty shit, or at least he hated when it was on him. He liked everything to be clean, neat, well decorated yet sleek and smooth in design. Even then, he made sure his clothing were all put into the basket next to his dresser. Grabbing boxers and a pair of gray sweatpants, he retired to the bathroom. 

The first thing he did was turn the shower on before getting in, waiting tell a cloud of fog billowed out. His bathroom was large, the main color black. While the shower did not have a tub combined into it, it did have a large one in the middle. Admittedly, he had only used for a few particularly sexual bathing encounters. 

Stepping into the pelting stream, the water pressure set up as high as he cold get it, he groaned. He let it spray through his hair, beard, turned so it massaged his back. Negan used two different types of soaps: a two in one shampoo conditioner, and a piney mint scented body wash. He didn't mess with any other shit, didn't find the necessity in it. He left the over use of soaps, bath bombs, and countless scents to his wives. 

Twenty minutes later, he was out, drying himself off roughly before slipping into the boxers and sweatpants. Shirts were useless when it came to sleeping, truly, he found all clothing useless when it came to being in bed. He had a guest for the night, though, so he decided to keep himself covered for the night. 

Once he was back in his room, Ava had curled up into almost a ball of sorts, nose tucked against her wrists. Her waves of hair draped over the pillow, dipping out over the side of the bed. Jesus, the woman could donate to each of his wives and still have a decent length. It was one of her most attractive characteristics, right next to the hourglass figure that plagued his dreams nightly. Flicking the lights out, he eased himself next to her. Then, without a thought, wrapped an arm around her waist, hand resting against her stomach. 

As if she were cued to do so, Ava snuggled into him, ass grazing his cock, making it rise faster than a nun on Sunday. 

“Fuck.” 

^^^  
Ava slowly blinked awake, her skin highlighted by the blazing morning sun. She remembered dosing off against Negan, but she wasn't quite sure what occurred after that. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she grimaced, hating the after sleep effect on her skin and the sour taste in her mouth. Once Doomsday arrived and toothpaste as well as face wash because scarce, she had sucked it up and grown used to it. Still, the last week of her life the two items had been once again introduced, and she was becoming accustomed to it. 

The second thing she noticed was the mattress, practically contouring her body with a slight comfortable chillness beneath the fabric of the sheets. That meant she was in Negan's bad, something she wasn't necessarily complain about; the guy lived like a god damn modern day king, and his mattress was something she'd live in for days if he let her. 

Uncoiling from the blankets, she sat on the edge of the bed, stretching before standing. Becoming aware of the thin nightgown and her lack of bra, she became slightly more self conscious. Last night her slightly intoxication left her not caring if he got a good view of her tits, or if she nipped out through her sleeping attire. Sadly, the “not caring” attitude of drinking alcohol didn't last very long.

Slowly coming through the door, she looked around, before spotting Negan on the couch. He had one leg prompt upped, Matthew laying in the triangular area. A bottle was being hungrily suckled, Negan's large hands gripping it for him. She was nearly shocked, watching him interact so naturally with the small infant. 

“Good morning, sunshine!” Negan's voice was loud, his grin wide, “I told little Matty boy we had to wait for his aunt to wake up before we started on breakfast, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. Little shit eats like a god damn stoner at a Chinese buffet!'

Ava couldn't help herself but laugh, he had a point, Matthew was a little big of a chunk. He had an assortment of rolls, especially on his little thighs. Coming closer, she moved Negan's bottle gripping hand up a bit, “You want to make sure you have it like his, or he'll take air in and have gas.” 

“He already farted on me, what's one more time?” Still, he was careful to keep his hand like she had posistioned it, “Go get dressed, shower, whatever you need to do. I've got him, then you can I can eat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapters soon, should have internet by this weekend. I don't have the patience to type chapters out on my phone.


	14. Chapter 14

Her scream cut through the midnight air, filled the entire building to the brim until it flooded through the roof. Negan snapped up in bed, his body long since adapted to immediate awareness. Scrambling from the bed he grabbed Lucille from the side table, ignoring the lights entirely, he knew his sanctuary like the back of his hand. 

There was several women on the top floor, most his wives, but he could distinguish her from any of them.

Ava.

Dwight burst into his office without even a knock, his gruesome scars half lit by the dim hallway lights. Before he could open his mouth Negan interrupted, anger like a venom staining his voice. 

“What the fuck is going on!?”

“We can't get her out of the corner, every time we try she fucking kicks and hits!”

“What happened?” Negan's fingers were white, his hand straining so tightly around his beloved bat. 

“We don't know, she just started screaming, like someone was trying to fucking kill her.” With a grunt Negan pushed passed him, a small group of his men gathered outside Ava's door. His wives were huddled at the end of the hallway, talking in hushed whispers, Sherry and Maya and particular, their eyes watching their husband. 

Matthew was wailing at the top of his lungs, twisting and turning within the walls of his crib. “Maya!” His yell brought all the women to silence, her petite form quickly coming to the doorway. None of them had yet to really see his secret wife, the girl who spent her days either in her own room or in his. Negan decided to not click the light on, worried it would startle Ava more. Scooping Matthew up, he handed him to Maya, “You and the others get the fuck out of here, go to your room, I'll come and get you when you can come out.”

One of his favorite things about Maya was that she never questioned him, no matter what, she simply nodded and scampered off with the infant in her arms. Sighing he turned to the part of the room he had yet to let his eyes settle on. 

She had her knees pulled to her chest, legs covered in satin pajama pants, top clad in white tank top. Hair concealed her face, her entire form trembling against the wall. “Ava.” He said it softly, kneeling next to her. It was the first time he'd seen her do this, the first time she seemed to show any signs of what the outside world was capable. It wasn't unusual, sleepless nights, nightmares, post traumatic stress disorder. He'd caused some of that in people, his own mind seemingly immune to all the carnage and suffering around him. 

When she didn't reply, he set his hand on her shoulder, “Ava,” he tried again, her shaking form cowering away from his touch. 

“No.” She whimpered, nails digging into her skin, through the thin fabric of her pants, “Please no.”

“No what?” Reaching up, he tucked her hair behind her ear, “You're safe here, remember?” He could feel the wetness on her face, hear the croaky undertone her voice held from sobbing.  
“It hurts, I don't want to, please, it hurts.” Covering her face with her hands, she tried shrinking further into the wall, a painful sob rattling her form, “It hurts.”

“What hurts?” He wasn't used to being gentle, careful, the last time he had been so tender with someone was when Lucille clung to her final hours of life, fear evident in her wide hazel eyes. 

As he continued to brush her hair softly, she seemed to relax a bit, breath rippled with hiccups, “Shhh, you're safe, remember? No one is going to hurt you here.” 

“N...Negan?” There it was, she was coming out of it, slowly, but surely. 

“it's me, sweetheart. I got ya.” Moving his left arm under her knees, he braced his other behind her back, slow to rise, “You're okay. I'm not going to let anybody hurt you.” She was hot in his arms, almost feverish as she quaked with tears and hiccups. 

“Emsorry...” she mumbled, gasping slightly for air, turning her head and hiding it in his chest. 

“Don't be sorry, kitten.” As he walked from her room, he glanced at his men, not saying a word as he entered the doorway of his office. Shutting the door behind them with his shoulder, he turned the lights onto the dimmed setting, before sitting on the couch with her in his arms, “What happened?” Tilting her chin up, he looked down at her, holding her tightly in his arms. 

“I had a bad dream...” Her voice was small, without the confidence he had grown so accustomed to, “When I woke up it was like I was still stuck in it....Negan, I'm cold.”

“Those kinds of dreams...” Rising once more, he carried her instead to his room, settling her on the bed before pulling the blankets over her, “They come from past traumas. I've seen it before, Ava. What happened? Who hurt you?” His voice was raspy, eyes narrowing as he sat on the edge of the bed. He'd kill whoever had fucked with her, tear them apart limb by limb. 

She nuzzled further under the blankets, avoiding his eyes. Internally, she struggled, her mind still pulsating with the dream that had wrecked havoc on her mind, “Wait, Negan...where's Matthew?” Sitting up quickly, her eyes were wide, “Is he okay?”

“He's fine. Maya has him, she knows how to do the whole...baby thing. You can have him back in the morning.”

Nodding slowly, she relaxed back, deciding it was better to not object, “I...I don't know how to talk about it...I've never, never have.” 

“There's a first time for everything, kitten.”

Her lower lip trembled a bit, eyes downcast as she searched her mind for words, “When the world started to end, we went to the church.

“You've told me that much.”

“At first we prayed...repented and...begged God to allow us safe travels into Heaven, I'm not relegious, I never have been...but Dad wouldn't listen,” She swallowed, gripping the blanket in her fingers, “One night, after communion, we were all...tired, the kind of drowsy you feel after you feel after you take cold medicine or something, but stronger.”

Negan didn't interupt, he stayed silent, watching her fingers shake as they dropped the blanket, “I woke up to Emalee screaming. He was on top of her, calling her...names, “the whore of Babylon”, harlot, slut, he was...cleansing her, he said, giving her a new purpose...”

And she shall be saved through childbirth. 

“When he was done, he crawled off of her, he pulled me up by the ropes around my wrists, and asked if I was a virgin.” 

Negan felt nausea in the back of his throat, something no one other persons story had ever brought upon him. 

“I told him yes, I thought maybe...maybe he wouldn't, if he knew, maybe he'd spare me...” She whispered, “He took me on the floor, just the same as my sister. Our Dad was on the alter, watching, his tongue cut out. It was the last thing he saw.”


	15. Chapter 15

The silence was loud, so much so that Ava felt it was deafening, expanding until it wrapped her up in a cocoon that would strangle the life from her. She hadn't planned on ever telling him, to allow him to see her weakness, especial;y when it was so great. Slowly she looked up at him, heart hamming so hard that her body felt numb, fingers cold and tingeing. “Negan?' Her voice was soft, quiet, foreign in the heavy quietness of his bedroom. 

“You killed him, right?” His voice was monotone, no hint of humor, deep and alarming, “Made sure that piece of shit would rot in hell for all of eternity?”

Nodding, they made eye contact, his hazel eyes almost startling in the dimly lit room. “You should get some rest.” Switching the lamp off, he started to turn, was ready to allow her some time alone. He was nearly to the door when she spoke. 

“Wait! Negan...I...don't go, please.” She sounded pitiful, and she knew it, but she didn't want to be alone, she didn't do well by herself. 

Facing her, he seemed unsure how to proceed, brows furrowed, “Do you...want me to stay with you?” He didn't do the soft, caring shit, hadn't in years. Yet, he yearned to, wanted to wrap his arms around her and remind her she was safe, that no one would hurt her ever again. Rape was something he didn't allow, an action he found to be the most despicable of all. He had smashed dozens of men's heads in for attempting it, for making the women in his community uncomfortable with their touching and groping. 

This was different, though, this was forced pregnancy, rape and abuse that lasted for months at the hands of a man who was supposed to be pure, holy, that was supposed to help them feel safe. How did you tell somebody who had been through something horrendous, that one day they would be okay? That one day their wounds would turn to scars? 

An anger was boiling him, so raw and organic, he didn't want her to see it, didn't want to scare her; but then she whispered, almost whimpered, “Please.” And good God, he almost melted, he couldn't say no to her. In all the chaos of that night, he had never properly dressed, still in his sweatpants, a white tank top that showcased the hard muscles that decorated his biceps, shoulders, everywhere. He was forty four, almost forty five, but he had always kept up with his workouts before the world ended, the addition of constant heavy lifting in his new life only added to it. 

Slipping under the blankets, he pulled her to him, held her close, hoped his radiating warmth would thaw her cold fingers, “I've got you.” He whispered into her ear, kissed her head and let himself be what others could never see, what only she would ever be allowed to witness, he let himself be human. 

Ava relaxed into him, breathing shaky until finally it dissolved, her eyes achy with exhaustion and tears, “Do you still want me?” She never thought she'd ask him that, that she would feel so strongly for him. At first he was a means of survival, a way to give Matthew a real life, but now it was different, almost strange.

“I won't ever not want you, baby doll.”

Nodding against his chest, her lids were heavy, mind calming as it sensed safety in his arms. She could make out the steady thump of his heart, no other lullaby had ever been so calming.

…  
Negan woke up the next morning with his arms still tightly around her, light creeping in from behind the curtains of his bedroom window. Looking towards the clock on his bedside table it was eleven fifteen, long past the time he typically woke up. “Ava.” He spoke gently, her form stirring for a moment before her eyes fluttered open. Sometimes he forgot about the ocean hues, how deep and beautiful they were. “Good morning, sleepy head.”

“Morning,” She half mumbled, slender fingers coming to cover her mouth as she yawned. Slight dark circles marred her under eyes, he ran his thumb beneath them, wishing he could wipe away all her fears so easily. 

“You should eat something, we both should.” Rising a bit, she moved with him, nodding slightly. 

“Can I shower first?” She loved his shower and he was well aware of it. 

He nodded, scooping her up bridal style and moving towards his bathroom, “Are you using me for my shower?” Cocking an eyebrow, he managed a meek smile from her full lips. 

He sat her down on her feet carefully, turning to the closet to get a towel out for her, “Take as long as you want.” 

Ava chewed her lower lip slowly, thinking, her beating so fast she thought it might break through her chest, “Can you shower with me?” She felt her cheeks flush, could her the shyness in her voice. Jesus Christ, what was she doing?

Negan went silent, still in place, shock nearly registering on his face. Sure, he'd fantasied about it a million times, wanted to know what her curvy body looked like under the running water of his shower. After what she confided him in the night before though, it felt wrong.

“Ava...are you sure about that? I mean...” He sighed, running his hand through his thick dark locks, “After last night....?”

“I'm not asking to have sex, I just...” She shrugged softly, tucking her long waves of hair back, “I want to start letting go of it. I feel safe, with you.” 

He gritted his jaw, struggled within himself, “You're sure?” 

“I'm sure.” She looked up at him, chewing her lower lip, it always got to him when she did that. 

“Okay.” He breathed out slowly, “Then let's take a shower.” 

Etching her fingers beneath her tank top, she slowly brought it up, feeling nerves form a tight bundle in her belly. She brought it up over her chest, over her head, then set it neatly on the counter. Negan watched, studied the narrowness of her lithe waist, the breasts that threatened to spill from the confines of her bra. It didn't seem to fit quite right, he was sure it wasn't comfortable, he'd have to check into getting her some that fit right. 

“You next.” She twirled a piece of thick hair around her finger, forcing herself to breathe. It wasn't the past that was making her so nervous; he wouldn't hurt her, she knew that, she trusted him, he was safety and warmth. Instead, it was the reveal of her body, something she'd never willingly gave another person viewing to. 

Negan was quick to discard his shirt, puling the snug fitting tank top up and over the hard ridges of his body. She felt her heart gallop harder, his body sculpted almost too perfectly. His entire body was hard, solid muscle, no slight belly like most middle aged men seemed to acquire. There was no lack of confidence in his own form, she knew he spent nights with other women, that he had taken his clothes of a hundred other times. Yet, she was flabbergasted, bewildered that someone could demand so much attention. 

Hooking her fingers in the waistband of her pajama pants, she slid them down, let them fall in a pile around her ankles before she bent down and gathered them up, placing them next to her top. The bra was beige, boring, but the panties were dark red lace, spanning over her wide hips and rear. 

Negan felt an internal conflict as he watched her, over the years he'd developed self control over certain areas of his body, but still his length begged to harden at the site of her. He didn't want to startle her, to bring up past memories that could crumble her. All he wanted was her to feel safe, to never have to worry about being afraid ever again.

Shedding his pants, he was left naked, he didn't bother with wearing anything beneath when he slept. He saw her eyes go wide slightly, lips parted in a perfect “o” shape. 

“Your turn, sweetheart.” He said with a slightly cocky grin. 

“Can you help me? With the hook?” She turned around, brushing her hair over her shoulder, “They're hard to get.”

Nodding, he did so, quickly and casually, as he had done so many times before. It was different this time, he knew that. He wanted to build their trust up further, to allow her to grow comfortable in his presence, to let her know what a goddess she truly was. When the straps fell over her shoulders, she caught the cups, before forcing herself to let them fall. 

When she turned, he didn't show lust in his eyes, he stepped forward and kissed her softly, brushing his fingers through her hair, “If you need me to leave, just tell me, alright?” He was tilting her chin up, looking into her eyes, “Your comfort is the most important thing to me.” 

“Okay.” She kissed him once more, before removing her final piece of clothing, the deep red panties that hid the last of her intimacy. Shyly, she looked up at him, before turning away and stepping into the shower.


End file.
